


Blame it on the cake

by not_working_just_for_now



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face Slapping, Hand Jobs, Jay is a bit clueless, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mike is angry and large, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_working_just_for_now/pseuds/not_working_just_for_now
Summary: "Always eat the cake when it's handed to you," Mike told him waving his finger obnoxiously. Jay sighed. The cake was only half of the problem.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is about Half in the Bag characters and them only

They were going to watch a movie, not anticipating much great out of it. Just another shitty, typical for January flick they would watch just in hopes that it could be laughably bad. But first, Jay had to eat the cake. Mike was frantically fussing around, plating a piece so it looked at least slightly appealing, and finally brought it to Jay along with a silver fork stolen from Mr Plinkett's house. 

"Maybe it could wait till we come back?" Jay tried for it, not really expecting it to work. 

"Always eat the cake when it's handed to you," Mike told him waving his finger obnoxiously. Jay sighed. The cake was only half of the problem. 

The cake-eating custom of Mike's "Italian culture" was terrible, and it was getting progressively worse just as Mike's unpredictable mood swings. One moment they were sitting in their chairs, shooting shit about movies and the next Mike would stare at him intently, the thread of their conversation seemingly lost and forgotten. The stares Jay could tolerate if only Mike could keep his hands to himself afterwards. They were used to having meaningless one-on-one's with each other, having spent over ten years repairing VCRs together, but never before had it felt real. In a way, Jay's life had been divided into pre- and post-cake era; the early times when they shared a bed while drunk, then woke up and felt each other under the blankets in the dim light of the dawn, warm all over and giggly for no real reason, and then the days of the cake, when Mike's hands got hungry and mouth scorching hot. It was like his body was growing increasingly larger the more Jay consumed the sugary treat, making it impossible for Jay not to want to be crushed underneath it, be squeezed and manhandled in a way he had never known he could enjoy.

Jay's cake consumption was likely the thing that got Mike going so Jay tried to bail on that part of wedding preparation occasionally, not because he didn't like the new kind of sex they were having - on the contrary, it was exceptionally good - however, each intercourse felt special, from the way Mike was dragging his burning lips over Jay's skin to the sharp shots of intoxicating pleasure that Jay felt when Mike pulled his hair back to have a good aim to come on his face. Everything Mike did to him felt heavenly and diabolic at the same time, heavenly in the way it freed Jay of troubles and grudges, big and small, filled him with calm and confidence he had always craved, and diabolic in the fact that the cause of it was probably just Mike fetishizing Jay eating the cake and had nothing similar with pathetic, angry love Jay had for him.

Each time they fucked felt dangerous now, and Jay wanted it nevertheless, feeling dumb for recognizing it and wanting it even more. Thinking about it in a closed stuffy space of a seedy theatre they were in, Mike's lingering presence on his right side, spawned new alarming ideas in his head; what if cake had nothing to do with it, and it was simply Mike slowly losing it from too much drinking and an early onset of dementia. After all, he had been behaving strangely ever since Jay managed to convince himself that marrying an old cougar wasn't that bad of an idea and his wedding date as well as other boring arrangements Mike obsessed over, were set in stone.

Each day at the VCR repair shop would bring new developments in Mike's sick excitement about the wedding, including taking Jay's measure for a suit Jay was yet to see and writing the vows when Jay threw a fit about writing them himself. It was the end of the day, and he was pretty tired from taking a home call and watching a random nausea-inducing movie they found at the house of a hipster who called for a VCR repair. All he wanted was to go home and maybe have Mike rub his back for him. Naturally, Mike got pissed off as he was taking everything in regards to the wedding too seriously nowadays.

After almost fifteen years of knowing Mike and being involved in his wicked schemes, there had been only a few times that Jay had witnessed Mike so enthralled in a creative process, his eyebrows bent and eyes aflame with devilish determination every time he cast a wistful look at Jay that sent a light tremble down his spine. It was like he was writing down every atrocious sin Jay had committed and was planning out a suitable punishment for each of them, and not a cheesy love confession for a senile old man. When he was finally done, he cleared his throat, gave Jay a possessive once-over and began:

"Dear Harry," he pronounced with palpable repulsion in his voice,

"you, my elderly withered rose petal, are the love of my life.

Ever since I saw you, I knew that I couldn't go on without you by my side. I wish I had met you earlier so that I could be chugging your sweet dusty man-meat down my throat as much as it humanly possible. Now that I have tasted it, I cannot get enough of it. My most favourite part of it is, of course, the saggy low hanging grapes that are your balls - I'm having the time of my life whenever you let me play with them using my hot wet mouth."

Mike was smiling like a complete asshole, taking depraved pleasure in Jay's pissed off expression. Jay felt hot from anger, also arousal. The words were lecherous, the imagery was disgusting, and Jay lived for it when it came from Mike. 

"I get so wet when I hear you moan," Mike continued, giving Jay a knowing look. "I love the look on your face when you're in the throes of passion, you old vicious lunatic. I love what a needy little slut you made out of me, I cannot go on without your daily load of come in my mouth, I want to swallow every drop. It makes me feel so special when you squeeze my waist and rub my hole like you do, and how you pinch my nipples when I reach for the slit of my cock."

By that point the tips of Jay's ears were burning so much he could barely feel them, his palms sweaty and body nearly paralyzed. Mike's stubborn expression, the fire in his eyes, the way his big chest heaved when he raised his voice to emphasize a particular part of the sentence: Jay couldn't help it. Mike wore expression of pissed off determination so perfectly when something really got under his skin and all of Jay's mortal being strived toward him each time it happened, though it used to be easier for him to control himself before as if Mike's sudden frenzy unearthed a new reckless Jay who would moan, and scream and whimper shamelessly, unafraid to show Mike how badly he wanted, _needed_ , everything Mike was capable of giving him.

This time it led him to collapse onto Mike's forearm, pant into the fabric helplessly, clatch to his wrist with all his strength. The smug expression on Mike's face must've been the last nail in his coffin; unable to hold himself back any longer, Jay surged up to kiss him on the lips, feeling himself physically tremble when Mike pulled him in his lap, the vows forgotten.

Outside of sex, it seemed practically impossible to take Mike's mind off the wedding and everything else in relation to Jay's and Mr Plinkett's relationship. He inquired Jay about their dates, what they did, what they talked about, if Jay found Mr Plinkett attractive. Jay answered all of them honestly at first, but Mike's interest never seemed to cease and Jay simply gave in to his annoyance and would say whatever came to mind. The wedding plan sure was genius, but also was fucking boring him to death. At some point after having given up on saving his dignity, Jay indulged himself in a little improve game the goal of which was to flirt with the old man while sneaking in as many 'death from old age' puns as possible. The game was amusing although Mike didn't seem to appreciate it, visibly tensing up whenever Jay started talking to Plinkett. Mike was such a jealous hack, Jay thought when after Jay's implementation of a particularly good pun, Mike got up and spilling his beer all over busted his way to the bathroom. He clearly couldn't stand Jay being funnier than him, or just having a good time. Without Mike in the room, puns didn't come out as funny as Jay would hope, so on their sparse dates with Mr Plinkett, he dropped the game and just stared at the ceiling while the old man babbled on about throwing children in the lava.

Mike was certainly on the verge of turning into a complete sicko, Jay decided, feeling Mike's hand pawning at the inside of his thigh. An elderly couple was sitting right behind them and back of Jay's neck began to tingle at the idea of anyone witnessing the way Mike was groping him: matter-of-factly, thoroughly, like he was inspecting the integrity of a high-priced possession.

He couldn't deny that he enjoyed it, was wallowing in that feeling of risky humiliation Mike was exposing him to. In the core of him, there was something worse, something that longed to be unveiled, put on display, and with each proprietorial dig of Mike's fingers in his flesh, the strings around it were untying faster and faster. The measured, calm rubs across his thigh caused him to gasp quietly and shudder both from pleasure and shame. Mike always seemed to have this diabolic ability to make Jay feel both like a lousy mess and the centre of the world, and it was the exact way he was feeling, stuffed into his theatre chair, sweating and breathing hard.

Thankfully, the torture would only last for another ten minutes during which Jay swallowed spit that was overflowing his mouth, squirmed in his seat, and burned like a kerosene-sprayed torch trying to cast away images of Mike standing over him, letting him lick come off his fingers. When the credits rolled and the elderly couple left, Mike turned to him and captured his chin with his hand, guided Jay's face to his lips, gave him a light, but prolonged kiss. Mike's lips and his arm crawling around his back carried Jay back from the edge he was hanging on, ready to throw himself into whatever disgraceful activity Mike had for him in mind. Still shaking and shivering as Mike brought him off, Jay basked in the aura of safety Mike's body was producing for him. Sometimes Jay's body and mind went to a place of complete pleasurable nothingness, but only when the intercourse was intense enough. Mike pressing him tight to his chest and pumping him meticulously made him feel like he was already there, having not even come yet.

A muffled voice came from the room door, asking if they were planning to stay there for eternity. Jay would love to, having a flair for both edging and being cuddled. 

"We're waiting for a post-credit scene, you fucko!" Mike yelled back, and the guy fucked off. Jay must've been not the only one Mike had control powers over. 

"There you go, baby," Mike cooed while Jay struggled to realize that not only had he come already but was practically cradled in Mike's lap, chewing remaining popcorn out of Mike's generous hand.

"I'm not a baby," he protested and was fed another mouthful of popcorn. It tasted sweet, also salty, and Jay blushed anew thinking that Mike had no chance to wash his hand while Jay had been coming down from the high.

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine," Jay successfully tucked himself in, pushed away Mike's "helping" hands in the process, and followed him out of the theatre past a schlubby over-weight guy who strangely looked like younger Mr Plinkett to Mike's car. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jay's place was now beginning to smell like Mike, also feel like him. Jay dreaded to be taken there with Mike by his side, afraid Mike might notice how much influence he had begun to have over Jay recently. Jay had been uncharacteristically untidy lately, would let Mike throw his clothes on the floor and not bother picking them up after, leaving dirty dishes in the sink in favour of snuggling under Mike's arm to watch a movie, breathing him in and getting gradually hard as it went on. He got off on the way Mike smelled after a long day of work, he got off on the way Mike smelled after sex, he got off on the way Mike smelled after a shower, and Mike seemed to return that sentiment. In the very beginning of their relationship, maybe the first time they fooled around in bed, Mike sent Jay into an upward spiral by gliding his nose over the shell of his ear and then pressing hard behind it, breathing him like he had been suffocating prior to that. It seemed cheesy in retrospect, the adoration pronounced in Mike's every motion when he caressed Jay there, kissed his neck, licked over his pulse, sucked in his ear-lobe. Tucked into Mike's side afterwards, Jay chuckled and called him a big softy, got pinched on the ass-cheek, felt happy.

Mike hadn't been tucking him under his arm since the wedding announcement as much as grabbed for him, squeezed him, draped his arms over him so that Jay was barely visible in their shared bed. Jay liked it, but it also didn't feel exactly like Mike he had known all this time. In the comfort of his home or any environment where they could be alone and do each other freely, Mike was more often than not lazy, unbothered, playful in a way of a big well-fed cat who deems himself as the real owner of the house. 

Jay had been missing that side of Mike when they lay in bed together, missed murmuring sweet nothing's back to him through sleep. Mike loved to talk, his ego bursting when somebody beside Jay tried to talk over him, he wouldn't shut up during sex and was explicitly eloquent afterwards. The best way for Jay to recover from the onslaught that their sex had become was to be told even worse things than ones Mike poured on him while they fucked, and Mike would deliver on that part with masterful filthiness. Outside of that, Mike resolutely refused to say a word while clinging to Jay under covers, gravely silent and jaw tight like he was expecting an army to break in and was mentally preparing himself for a fight. 

Out of the two of them, Jay was the one to engulf all sorts of obscenity in film, but Mike was the professional in turning them into flesh. Watching people being tortured and degraded on-screen, Jay, the hack fraud that he was, felt misery, sympathy, compassion, a whole range of a real decent human being emotions and not lewd demented joy that spread across his body from Mike throwing him on the bed, ridding him of his clothes in the upmost unceremonious fashion, and taking him remorselessly.

On the way back home, sprawled jello-like in the front seat of Mike's car, he could sense that feeling slithering over him. It was emitted by Mike's stone-cold face, the way he gripped the steering wheel and his foot bounced hectically on the floor. Jay glanced outside where it snowed like crazy, entertained the idea of coercing Mike into carrying him bride-style through the snow and resumed to slowly edging himself with prospects of what they could do. Mike might let Jay suck him off or give him a blow job, both ideas tempting. Mike gave head like he was fully in control, would make Jay's brain melt with purposefully leisure licks. Planning to have sex somehow seemed sleazy, perhaps in contrast with how innocently spontaneous it used to be. Jay loved that it felt sleazy, had spent the whole of his life running away from those sort of things, and had no regrets about indulging in it now. 

He sank back deeper into the seat, grasped rough jean fabric on his thigh, rubbed himself there discreetly, fully understanding that Mike would punish the shit out of him if he noticed. Doing so and trying to conceal it made him so bad, and he felt his breath stagger despite his best efforts. If Mike had pulled over, stopped the car, and asked him in a calmest, gentlest voice what he was doing, Jay would yield in no time with teary eyes and quivering lips, turn himself in and beg forgiveness. At that moment he thought of himself as nothing, but a spoiled brat, and he was dangerously close to finally being disciplined for all of his impudent deeds. 

They were yet to embark on that kind of action, getting off on the notion of Jay being weak, needy, obedient, only treading lightly on the border of the territory where Mike could try to tie Jay up while he wiggled and jerked in his grip, cursed the man holding him, bit back and got slapped in the face before inevitably ending up taking Mike inside him, fessing up about how good it felt, pleading for more.

Imagining it was possibly the worst of all the things Jay could do to himself, his cock hard and pulsing, pushing pre-come out so steadily that he probably would be uncomfortably wet by the time they would have come home. Since he had already crossed the point of no return, Jay lolled his head to the side to press his forehead to the coldness of the window and allowed his mind to wander off to other perverted stuff. He was almost certain Mike would chastise him for getting hard from just a simple car ride, his imagination throwing mocking words said in Mike's voice to feed his overwhelmed lusting mind. He thought of Mike's coarse fingerpads circling over his erect nipples then scratching over his pecs with his short nails, moaned silently while toying with his right nipple using the unoccupied hand. Mike had noticed, he was sure, and that awareness was like the last drop into an almost over-flowing glass of water. There was no point in secrecy anymore, and nevertheless, pretending like it mattered had gotten Jay closer and quicker to the edge than having Mike drag him into his lap and give it to him hard and good would have. There was some evil magic to the feeling of being a mess and having somebody special uncover it, welcome it, relish it.

It was oftentimes part of their routine to play it out like Jay had been a bashful little thing before Mike corrupted him with his antics and that Jay was thankful and willing to show his infinite gratitude for it. A fraction of this act was rooted in reality, at least for Jay. He was thankful, although not for his sexual awakening, but rather for gentle careful fashion Mike paved the way for it after accidentally finding out that Jay liked his hair pulled. Mike had figured it out rather quickly, given his love of threading his fingers through Jay's hair, and had worked it as well some other fetishy stuff into their serene Sunday morning fucks so it felt like the most natural thing to do.

The slow pace of it all had changed as the wedding approached as if Mike for some stupid reason thought that they wouldn't have sex once Jay was married to Mr Plinkett. Earlier, Jay had clearly stated that he wouldn't fuck the old man, found the idea repulsive. Mike acted like a starved troglodyte nevertheless, would jump Jay on every given occasion and didn't seem to be satisfied. On the contrary, their frequent intercourses seemed to make him more and more depressed, like Jay's body was some kind of inhumane drug coming down from which was taking away all Mike's will to live. 

By the end of the ride, neither of them had acknowledged Jay's disposition, Jay only whimpering quietly while Mike helped him unfasten his seat-belt and dragged him out of the car. So his hopes did come true as Mike practically carried his heavy-limbed body to his apartment though not bride-style but rather a drunken buddy on a late night. Mike assisted him as he stumbled through the door, took his coat and shoes off. Jay wanted to tell him that he wasn't completely helpless and Mike cut him off with an urgent shove of his tongue into his mouth. It felt good, enough for Jay to finally break into hungry needful moans, searching Mike's clothing for touch of naked skin. 

With Jay's fingernails digging into his back, Mike picked him up effortlessly, probably running on pure adrenaline. Wrapping his legs around Mike's body felt revolutionary, like something no human was allowed to feel. Jay clung to Mike selfishly, hid his face in the curve of Mike's neck possibly saying it out loud 'no-one is better be ever allowed to feel this, mine, mine', biting him, growling deep inside his chest, delirious with desire to be fully undone. Mike responded to Jay's every movement with same frantic energy, pressing him to his chest so hard Jay could barely breathe. 

Once in the bedroom, they undressed hurriedly, sweaty clothes sticking to their skin, panting and bumping into each other clumsily, at moments forgetting the task at hand and resuming to sloppy kisses. Soon they were both naked, Jay was splayed on the bed, watched Mike with swimmy eyes as he stroked himself, towering above Jay like a big horny monolith. The comparison made Jay chuckle, the wave of it making him shake and suddenly become very aware of his own body. Mike continued to stroke himself back and forth while Jay ran his hand over his pecs, touching his already too sensitive nipples lightly, wandered down to the tanned flat of his stomach, smiling languidly. Mike groaned loudly at the sight and Jay knew exactly the reason, a little devil in him laughing gleefully, nudging him to continue. He pressed onto his stomach harder, circled all over the area below bellybutton. Mike loved this soft spot, would lick and kiss him there relentlessly before giving Jay a blowjob, could spend hours caressing it while they spooned comfortably afterwards. It could be both a sign of Mike's caring nature and a horrible unspeakable fetish Mike had. Either way, it was fun to tease him like that, watch his fist speed up around the monstrous girth of his cock. The scene was mesmerizing and Mike was looking down at him with a wistful gleam in his eyes, each obscenely loud pump of his fist inducing Jay to tremble with want to reach for it, envelope his lips around it, be shoved further onto it. He looked like he knew all of that and denied Jay, so big and righteous in his decision. 

Mike was so close to him and not close enough to touch, Jay wasn't good enough to touch, only worthy of lying there and waiting patiently for Mike to bathe him with his release. The tears had begun to gather in the corners of his eyes, caused by the combination of all the sweetest things: the heat of humiliation, the urgent need to come, the way Mike looked at him like he was perfect. His hands flexed and relaxed on his belly, tempted to touch himself so that Mike could see how desperate he had become or cover his face not to see the debauch that was unravelling around him. Mike saved him from making the decision just like many times before by lowering himself, giving Jay a short reassuring kiss on the lips, and lifting his legs, helping him wrap them around Mike's waist. Mike's cock was now pressing hard and wet against Jay's own, the pre-come they both had produced being more than enough for Mike to stroke them together without discomfort.

Jay grasped for Mike, snuck his arm around his neck, dug his teeth in his bottom lip. Mike wasn't the one edging himself during the drive home, but he was so hard and heavy, as close to the peak as Jay, his breath quick and uneven, hands greedy as he worked them both into oblivion.

Jay came first, making obscene whimpering noises while Mike finished himself without quitting his hold of Jay's dick.

"Is that good, _baby_?" Mike growled in his ear, still resting on top of Jay, smearing their shared release over Jay's sensitive belly. Jay moaned in response, drums pounding in his ears, vision blurry from tears and intensity of the orgasm. They stayed draped around each other for a while, Mike kissed his face, licked his cheeks a couple of times like a big goofy dog, pecked him on the nose as a finishing touch.

"You're such a sweet little thing," Mike whispered into his lips, prompting Jay to roll over with his hands. Jay obeyed, rising to his senses slowly but surely. "Such a good little slut, too." 

Jay sprawled idly on his stomach, perked his ass up as a lucid invitation. He never could have imagined that he would be called a slut and view it as a praise. Praise was what he needed most of all at the moment and Mike seemed to understand, rubbing Jay's entrance with smooth motion and leaning close to Jay's ear to pour worshipful filth into it. 

"You did so well today, in theatre and here," the pressure on his hole was just the right amount of light and firm, and despite having come mere minutes ago Jay's hips twitched to give his cock at least a tiny bit of stimulation. Mike kissed his temple tenderly as if in approval, clueing Jay that he had been so good that he deserved to have his whims gratified. Jay inhaled deeply, ghosts of things he had wanted to partake in swarming around him. 

"Tell me what you want now, and I'll give it to you," Mike's hand made its way to one of Jay's buttocks, cupped it, squeezed it gently. "All of it."

Jay hid his face in the pillow, spread his legs a little more for Mike's pacifying touch. He was afraid to speak and ruin the atmosphere they created for themselves, so he lay there silently, taking in the sensation and breathing harder and harder. He knew Mike would interpret it right. Jay wanted to submit himself to Mike without having to confess it, at least not yet. He had just come recently, was fuzzy with satisfaction and a new wave of arousal swirling through his body, couldn't keep his thoughts straight. Mike's hand lingered over Jay's spine, traced it upwards and gripped the nape of his neck, pulled up firmly, causing him to jolt, lift himself up to stand on his knees. Jay's mouth fell open involuntarily as Mike's hand pawned at his hair, yanked his head back enough to hurt.

"There's my smart boy," Mike chuckled meanly, inserted a finger in Jay's mouth, watched ravenously while Jay struggled not to wrap his lips around it, be good, wait for permission. Mike grinned at him, stroked his cheek, all careful and gentle without ceasing to tease the life out of Jay. A thin stream of drool was dripping down his chin, but Jay had seen it coming. No way in the world could any of this be clean or graceful.

"You want this deeper, hmm?" taunt in Mike's voice made the inside of Jay's mouth even wetter, and he welcomed the second finger with approving moan, his eyes rolling back a tiniest bit when they began to caress his tongue back and forth delicately. When Mike removed his fingers, Jay felt empty on an almost painful level, but Mike didn't let him grieve for too long.

Soon enough he was pulling Jay down to his crotch, halting him mere inches away from the dribbling tip of his cock. Jay licked his lips, kept his mouth open, stared up at Mike with surrendered hope in his eyes. 

"How deep can you take it?" 

"All the way," Jay answered without thinking, blood flowing to his face. He wanted to lick it, wanted to savour it, worship it. He was also dying to have it shoved down his throat, take it fast and messy, be used with it and then pushed on all fours, told to wait or perform some humiliating task Mike was so good at coming up with.

At times when Jay got too finicky with movies Mike suggested they watched, Mike would order him to strip, lay down, and recite plot to a movie Jay thought was superior to one of Mike's taste, all while Mike used his tongue to draw patterns over his skin, toyed with his nipples lazily. If Jay stopped talking for at least ten seconds, Mike would go to another humiliating stage of that process which included Jay going through Mike's excessive movie collection and dividing them into 'good' and 'bad' ones. Jay would be red-faced at that point, his belly and thighs wet, cock hard with the need to come, his mind falling apart until Mike showed mercy and allowed him to mount Mike's cock which he had been stroking stately, watching Jay stumble around helplessly.

Jay shivered, licked his lips again. He needed to calm down to be docile like Mike wanted him to be, but his rational thoughts were evaporating rapidly from the way Mike was staring down at him, with all the devilish patience in the world and Jay had no strength to even close his mouth, lust overriding his body. Finally, Mike tangled his fingers in Jay's hair with a scoff, bumped the cockhead into Jay's wet and puffy bottom lip. Jay opened wider for him, took him in with a languid moan, didn't stop moaning until it was pushing at the back of his throat, blinked tears off his eyelashed from how divine it felt. 

"Hush, hush, you're good, you did perfect, so fucking good, Jay," Mike murmured softly wiping tears off Jay's cheeks then caressed his cheekbone when Jay's face glowed with a pleased expression. He did take all of Mike in and he deserved the praise, deserved to drag his tongue down the shaft, swallow around it. Mike pulled out a little so Jay could enjoy it more freely, pulled out entirely when Jay began to forget himself, bobbing his head back and forth more and more wildly, lapped at a thick pulsing vein on the side and whimpered like it still wasn't enough. Mike rubbed the head against Jay's cheek while Jay panted, almost crushed with the need to get it back inside.

"I want you to kiss it," Mike hummed, petting Jay's dishevelled hair. Jay did as he was told, absorbing the heat and the flavour as Mike held him by the jaw with one hand, not allowing him to move around. The head of the cock was so wet, glistening, that Jay couldn't resist sneaking the tip of his tongue over the slit to savour it, which ripped a disappointed huff from Mike.

He guided his cock up ignoring Jay's protesting whimpers, ran it along the side of Jay's nose, staining his face with pre-come and spit. Jay's mouth stayed open, but Mike seemed to have no interest in it. 

A slap was a sudden, shocking sensation, shocking even more so than painful, although it tingled where the head of the cock landed. Then came the next one, and then another, gooey substance spreading over Jay's face unevenly with each heavy smack. They had never done it before and Mike barely ever slapped him with his hands, so being slapped with his dick was new, overwhelming, addictive. 

"Do you like that?" the question sounded like a demand to say no, to fight back, and let Mike continue punishing him, but Jay was too far gone, nodded wildly, desperately, feeling like had achieved his true form of an inhuman creature or an alien, only worth for somebody else's enjoyment, so blissful that he couldn't be bothered to feel ashamed anymore. 

Mike huffed, and pushed forward into Jay's mouth once again, forcing it to open further. Jay was starting to gag a little, consumed by the wanton novelty of what Mike just did to him, but still couldn't help it and gasped with content at the roughness of Mike's cock slipping back in his mouth.

"You like when I fuck your mouth?" Mike asked. Jay groaned and closed his eyes. "You want me to fuck you harder, don't you?"

Jay groaned again, and then grunted, his eyes snapped open, and he groaned louder as the head of Mike's cock started to sink down, and he felt the cockhead being pushed deeper into his throat once again, this time not so smoothly, Mike pausing every now and then to tug on Jay's nipples that had stiffened and enlarged from arousal and pain.

Mike let out a sharp breath as the head of the shaft went deeper, and Jay swallowed around it harder, trying to take as much as he could without choking, and shaking a little from how big it was. Jay's breath was choppy, absorbed by serving Mike well he forgot to inhale from time to time, and soon red dots were swimming in front of his eyes. Mike eased him off, wiped his mouth carefully, lowered him on his back. It fascinated Jay how Mike, a liar, a drunk, and a fraud, was so sensible to Jay's every emotion, seemed to meet every one of his requirements. Sometimes Jay couldn't help but feel like a fragile china-doll and Mike had to methodically restore Jay's ability to be his feisty squeamish little self, without his precision in everything regarding taking care of Jay, Mike wouldn't have had so much power over him. 

Jay could get babbly with gratitude and always secretly hated it, was especially thankful when Mike shut him with a kiss, didn't mind that his lips and jaw ached under the strain of Mike's teeth and tongue. Mike wouldn't let him speak while working his fingers over and inside of Jay's hole, pinched and twisted his nipple when Jay sobbed out a muffled 'god, you're amazing'. 

They kissed sluggishly after Mike lined himself with Jay's entrance. Mike's cock moved deeper in him as Jay attempted to shift his hips around to feel just how solid and heavy it was inside him, not intending to tease Mike, but received a mean look anyway before Mike pressed his forehead to Jay's, pecked him on the nose, moved probingly once, twice, captured his lips with a deep kiss while picking up the tempo. 

It was beatific to be covered with Mike's body, have all of his attention concentrated on rewarding him with steady deep thrusts inside him, just like Jay loved. Mike caressed his sides tenderly, Jay made noises even more pitiful than ones he made when Mike fucked him from behind on all fours in the grossest, most depraved fashion. They kept the pace throughout, Jay beginning to cave in and Mike prodding Jay further with vile words and sharp wet licks on the mouth, which made it more purifying once Jay reached the peak, toppled over it. 

Mike didn't pull out, and Jay cried, screamed riding the waves of his climax combined with the relentless ramming of Mike's cock deep inside him.

"Go on, scream," Mike nudged him, voice hoarse. "Your face looks so much prettier with your mouth open." 

Jay wailed, unable to disobey him, didn't want to. 

"Good boy," Mike growled in his ear, pierced the shell with his teeth, and came, shaking them both with the force of it.

\----------------------

Jay was swinging peacefully on a soft warm cloud, had a hunch that he'd be dead to the world for the remainder of the night. 

"Are you okay?" Mike asked, all bravado gone from his features now that they both had come, looking worn out and like he might cry. 

"Perfectly fine," Jay yawned, reached for Mike with a tired hand. He was exhausted in the most perfect kind of way, felt cuddly and generous. "Come lie down with me, I don't mind that you're dirty."

"Do you cuddle with Plinkett or he's not that type of guy?" Mike seemed frozen in place and also stoically determined to ruin it with his usual obsessive bullshit. 

Jay grunted, pushed sweat-wet hair out of his face to glare at Mike with annoyance. 

"I've never cuddled with Plinkett, Mike. He's old, he's gross, he's not my type."

Mike's eyes widened with almost gleeful shock. 

"You did, though!" he proclaimed waving his finger in Jay's face, and laughed maniacally, staring at Jay with amusement. "You absolutely fucking did and you told me all about it!"

"When?" the odds were that Mike either lost it beating off to the image of Jay and Plinkett's happy marriage, or it was one of the things Jay threw around without realizing he was saying it. 

"Fifteenth of October, last year," Mike exclaimed so emphatically that Jay was convinced that Mike had gone mad. His good mood ballooned, a cloud beneath him became charged with a lightning. Of course, Mike would bring his unhealthy enthusiasm about the wedding into their bed, it had been just a matter of time before it overcame every aspect of his life. Jay wanted to rise from the bed, yell, throw things at Mike, do something to stop himself from feeling so lovesick for a man who only cared for satisfying his feeding kink and hunger for money. Making a scene wouldn't help, all he could do was prove Mike wrong about his delusions and then rub it in his face. 

"I said that so you would leave me alone, you asshole. I don't care about Plinkett or the wedding, which means you can't have all the money while he and I are doing each other like a couple of rabbits." The tirade left him breathless, and there was a stingy feeling in his eyes, but he refused to cry. Mike also seemed on the verge of tears and Jay forbid himself feeling bad for him. The fucker wanted to scam him out of his hard-earned money and had fucked up even the little joy Jay had in life. 

"But the cake..." Mike stared at him with a disoriented look on his face. "The gay pheromones?"

"What pheromones?" Jay thumped his face into a pillow, roared into it, too. He was frustrated, wanted to cry or disappear off the face of the earth, and Mike was just sitting there, eyes like saucers, babbling nonsense. 

"Gay pheromones. If they didn't make you fall in love with Plinkett why'd you have sex with me" Mike stumbled, blushing probably for the first time around Jay, "like that?"

Jay blushed himself, suddenly becoming very aware of his naked body, Mike's as well. 

"Why, 'coz I liked it?" Jay folded a blanket around his shoulders, left nothing for Mike out of spite. "Did you think that I was doing it because of the cake? Did I tell you that?"

"Well, I thought you were in love with Mr Plinkett and used me as a substitute for him before the wedding since you're Amish and have to be a virgin, so I just decided... ow! The fuck?!" Jay punched him on the shoulder hard, not willing to hear any of that. Mike shut his mouth, endured Jay punching him again less hard, and smiled obscenely when Jay met his eyes, out of breath and head spinning with something resembling happiness. Mike surged for him like he was running for his life, or maybe he did.

"You stupid asshole," Jay said into Mike's mouth, let him partly pilfer his blanket, run his hands all over his exposed back and buttocks. 

"You little shit," Mike huffed heavily with relief after releasing Jay from a suffocating kiss, flopped Jay back onto the bed and pressed his lips to Jay's naked shoulder ravenously, looking both happy and insane. "Couldn't you tell me earlier?"

"Tell you what? I don't know what's going on inside your head."

Jay tried to snort to convince Mike he was pissed off, but lost it giggling like a schoolgirl to Mike's tongue licking across his face, such a disgusting, arousing, truly Mike thing to do. 

"Wait, does that mean we can't have this sex anymore?" Jay certainly didn't want more at the moment, but the mere prospect of never seeing Mike spread his wings and go to town on him was sacrilegious to him now.

"Oh, don't be silly," Mike yawned, already tapping out now that their drama was resolved and Jay was comfortably tucked under his arm. "I haven't even spanked your ass yet."


End file.
